


Vintage AU x TWST

by anlily_ll



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anlily_ll/pseuds/anlily_ll
Summary: Welcome to Vintage AU, where you, the reader, are living in different time periods with different characters from Twisted Wonderland. Feel free to navigate throughout the timelines and endure romances with your favorite TWST character!Disclaimer: All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real person, real or dead, is purely coincedential.
Relationships: Jade Leech/Reader, Leona Kingscholar/Reader, Sebek Zigvolt & Reader, Sebek Zigvolt/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. Finding Treasure (Chapter 1)

“We’ve arrived at Victoria Station. Please watch your step!” The conductor’s voice chimes amidst the clacking of the train, followed by the din of a blaring horn and clanging bell. [Reader] wakes from their stupor, immediately shaking off fatigue from their muscles. They quickly gather their belongings and take out a pocket watch. 

The ticking artifact marks the time: 1’o’clock noon sharp.  _ Perfect.  _

The locomotive screeches to a halt, finally stopping at an industrial station.  _ Victoria Station,  _ a hubbub of metropolitan hustle and industrial prestige, towers over the surrounding premises as departing and arriving locomotives and people bustle about in the scene. You’ve finally arrived.. 

There was little time to bask in the ambiance of the train station. You had to hurry along to the next destination: the London Museum. You maneuver past meandering tourists, merchants, and businesspersons, hoping to emerge out of the crowd as quickly as possible. 

“[Reader]! Is there a [Reader] here?” 

A voice startles you from your stupor. Awaiting you at the entrance is a young chauffeur. His amicable smile and polite countenance conveys an air of earnesty, his blonde locks nearly glimmering in the radiant sunlight. “Yes, I’m here,” You greet formally, politely extending your hand for a handshake. He accepts with a polite smile, shaking it firmly. 

“You may call me, Blake King, Mx. [Reader]. I’ll be your guide during your time here in London. Please allow me to take your belongings,” 

You open your mouth to protest, yet he catches you, flashing you another polite smile before taking your luggage. “No need to worry, Mx. [Reader]. I will take great care in(maybe use with instead) your belongings,” A promise with a genuine smile at the curve of his lips. With gloved hands, he hoists your suitcase. 

“Thank you,” You heave a relieved sigh.

“Your papers?” 

“I’ll hold on to them, thank you, Blake,” 

“Very well, then. Shall we?” 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Emerging from the bustling crowd, you stepped into a threshold of autumnal bliss: a radiant, pale sun shines by the cerulean heavens, not a cloud in sight. Cool wind from the east startles deciduous leaves from their branches, shades of reds, oranges, and yellows painting pavements with colors of flame. Beautiful was the word you labeled this moment, yet it was different from your countryside home, where fall had a richer picture than what you saw here. No time to waste, you shake your head, lightly scolding yourself. 

Your escort guides you to a lavish carriage, stationed by a pair of gallant and tamed horses. They give out lethargic snorts and neighs, as if they were politely greeting you. A youthful horseman by the perch tips his beret in greeting. He pardons himself to assist Blake with your belongings. 

“This way, [Reader]. Please watch your step,” 

He bids, offering you a hand to mount the carriage.

“Thank you,” was the rehearsed reply to his gesture. You glimpse a kind smile from him, his blue eyes glinting with gratitude. For a moment, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a little puppy receiving its treat for the first time. A humorous notion, you kept that thought to yourself. 

You settle in a velvety threshold, a luxurious place you’d never thought of being in until now. The seats, fabricated with the most authentic material, felt smooth and firm to the touch. Indigo satin curtains veil the morning sun, casting the threshold into a dark shade. You glimpse an intricately

wrapped item alongside an envelope with an embellished red seal. 

To [Reader]; From Sir Leech, the envelope reads in neat penmanship. 

“Where to, sire?” 

“The British Museum, please,” 

You hear Blake’s voice from outside. 

Perhaps I should read this later... You contemplate as your eyes drift to the artifact. Your fingers undo tight knots to reveal a beautiful yet functional pocket watch. Its sheen flawless in the dim light , you fathom the telltale tick. The hands tell the correct time: 2 in the afternoon. 

_ Almost tea time.  _

Just in time for your appointment with the museum curator. There was much to be done, and so much to do. Your gloves grip on the leather handle of your briefcase. Inside were invaluable sources to what could lead to a groundbreaking discovery of the century. After months of burning candlelight of deciphering a foreign text, cross-referencing with other sources, and concluding to a plausible answer, you’ve found yourself in the heart of something grandiose.. 

Your mind whirs with questions: What if this artifact was a ruse to ward off outsiders? What if an unknown curse had been cast on the artifact and you’d might carry it home? It was too much to ruminate about. 

“Mx. [Reader], we’re here!” Blake’s voice breaks your reverie. Excitement bubbling at your midst, you clutch at the pocket watch and briefcase in anticipation. There it is, the British Museum, austere and eloquent in its glory. The very place where you can only hope for the best, to clarify the confusion you’ve had for so long.. 

The carriage stops at the entrance. Blake dismounts, saying a quick word of thanks to the horseman. 

“Please watch your step, [Reader],” He says, offering a hand to you. 

“Thank you,” With a light step, you dismount the taxi carriage, allowing Blake to take some of your luggage, save for the briefcase of documents you intend to carry. 

“Please follow me, [Reader]. The British Museum is quite expansive and one can get easily lost if you’re not being careful,” Your escort takes the lead, guiding you deep into the labyrinthine interior of the museum. You pass rooms of antiquities you’d never thought you’d see in person, pass regal paintings done in intricate detail that almost made you do a double take, and pass by grand vases and structures that rivaled the beauty of modern day architecture. 

Finally, you stop by a door you presume to be an office of the curator. The plaque on the door reads just exactly what you anticipated: 

**_Jade Leech, Curator of the British Museum_ **

Blake straightens himself, correcting his tie for a brief moment and gives you a brief glance. You nod, already preparing for this moment. He knocks on the wood with a gloved hand. 

“Sir Leech, I’ve brought Mx. [Reader] here. May we come in?” 

“Come in, Mr. King,” 

A relieved smile graces his lips, opening the door for you to come in first. You’d never thought you’d come in such a prestigious study. Memorabilia of previous curators, certificates of new antiquities coming in the Museum, and quaint oil paintings of commonplace life. By the threshold, a well-suited man with eyes of olive at his right and a glowing golden at his left pauses his conversation with another man sharply dressed in a fedora and dapper suit. 

The man with the heterochromic eyes, in which you presume to be Jade Leech, greets you two with a polite smile. 

“Well then, we will resume our conversation at a later appointment, Mr. Ashengrotto,” 

“Indeed, Mr. Leech,” 

Both men shake hands formally - you nearly gasp from the sheer height difference between the two, with Jade towering Mr. Ashengrotto greatly - and Mr. Ashengrotto excuses himself from the room. A polite smile returns to his lips, 

“Please make yourself comfortable, Mx. [Reader]. King, please prepare some tea,” 

“Yes, Sir,” 

You thank your host, sitting across from him. Blake excuses himself to attend his duties. Jade eyes the envelope by your hand inquiringly, his eyebrow perched at an arc. 

“Have you read my letter yet, [Reader]?” 

“My apologies, Sir Leech. I have yet to read it myself..” Your ears flame from embarrassment. Jade’s smile twitches, 

“Very well. You may open and read it,” 

You obey his word and unfold the envelope, reading neat penmanship on parchment paper. 

_ “Dear Mx. [Reader],  _

_ Thank you for entrusting me your findings about the Sacred Gem. Your family will be remembered for all they’ve done in contribution to this research. Your passion and fervor has inspired me to partake into this research. Our previous conversations over tea made me consider some thoughts for a while, and I’d like to share my sentiments with you on paper before we meet you again.  _

_ From my understanding, the Sacred Gem was acknowledged as a symbol of power from the time of pharaohs, similar to the Flail and Crook of Osiris and the Double Crown symbolizing the unicameral rule of both sides of Egypt.. It was acknowledged amongst the priests as a symbol from the goddess of magic, an artifact infused with magic untold and if the pharaoh wielded this artifact, it would mean that he is the ruler of the magicks and the earth.  _

_ Yet, what your studies have brought me is that the meaning and the dangers of the Sacred Gem. I’ve never realized its dexterity and downfalls as a medium of power. Such detail never crossed my mind, and I thank you for enlightening me in this matter. It’s fascinating, really and it’s even more fascinating that many historians have yet to spare the time to excavate it. I’ll be more than happy to join you in your efforts to discover this and bring this to the light of the public, but do I have your permission to join you?  _

_ Sincerely,  _ _  
_ _ Jade Leech.  _

_ Curator of the British Museum  _

“Well then, [Reader]?” Jade’s voice chimes you back to reality. His smooth smile indicates of a level-headed host prepared for an excitable guest. The golden eye by his left dims. 

This was perfect! The curator of the British Museum lending you his assistance for your endeavors! Yet, you peer fromthe letter. 

“Are you certain, Mr. Leech?” You ask. Jade’s smile only widens, revealing a toothy grin. 

“Why, of course, [Reader]. I’ve already appointed someone as a temporary curator for the time being. No need to worry, I have full confidence that my acquaintance will take good care of the museum when we’re off gallivanting to our adventure,” There was something about Jade’s voice that brought a chill to your spine. 

“Shall we?” He extends a gloved hand to you, his toothy smile somehow calm and calculating. 

Will you accept him or not? 


	2. Finding Treasure (Chapter 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of 'Finding Treasure'!

_ “Of course,”  _

You finally accept his offer. 

From then on, Jade had already transferred his curator responsibilities to an ‘Azul Ashengrotto’, where he had already promised the safety and care of the museum with a suave smile. Blake, on the other hand, tagged along to assist you and Jade. Your adventure begins with slews of train rides and a steam boat ride all the way to your destination: Cairo, Egypt. From there, you exchange notes with Jade and Blake, spending lengthy conversations over light tea and snacks discussing and debating about the artifact in mind. From playful light banter to awkward mishaps along the way, it seemed as if you, the curator, and his assistant were getting along..   
  


“We’ve arrived in Cairo, Egypt! Please watch your step!” cries the conductor of the ferryboat. A foghorn roars from above, signaling the ship’s arrival in the dock. You prepare your bags and disembark along with Jade and Blake. The scalding sunlight unleashes a ruthless heat upon the both of you, a spell that made you wish to be back home with a nice cup of warm tea.

“There is no going back, my dear [Reader]. We’ve made it this far,” Jade’s words drown out your doubts. His gloved hand, somewhat warm and comforting, squeezes your shoulder. You look back to Blake, who flashes you an encouraging smile. It was just the three of you in this journey, to excavate a grand artifact and perhaps obtain what would be the grandest discovery of the century. 

Your eyes land on a busy road, filled with people and creatures alike. It was the path you chose, the path many explorers had never ventured before. The Sacred Gem is somewhere out there, and you’re willing to venture into this unknown realm. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

“Now, now, Mx. [Reader], what do you recall from your father’s notes about the threshold?” 

Jade inquires, loosening his tie. The unbearable heat of the new environment made it quite impossible for the young man to bother with his suit. Evening had come - the setting sun coaxing a slightly cooler temperature compared to the atrocious heat from the afternoon. You and Jade settle down at a quaint hotel, where you had to sleep in a single room while Blake settled in another. Such an odd predicament, but alas there were only two vacant rooms that the owner could offer. 

“He did mention a matter about booby traps and puzzles on the site,” You say, scanning your father’s documents about the desk. Pages, yellowed from old age and negligence, depict rough diagrams bearing a resemblance to what would be the site of the Sacred Gem. Intricate penmanship, indicative of your father’s hand, pinpoint numerous areas of alleged booby traps, sketches of its mechanics and harrowing incidents on some of them. You thank your father’s notes for being quite thorough, yet a hunch suspects that there was something else lying beyond those notes.. 

_ Father, what are you hiding?  _

“Mx.[Reader]?” Jade’s concerned tone anchors you back to reality.  _ No need to be sentimental here.. _

“Pardon me, Mr. Leech,” You turn to another page where your father had written more notes, most likely chronicled observations of his time at the site. 

“Please, call me Jade,” He places his hand over yours, long yet slender fingers of a young man in his prime, his thumb caressing your wrist. His gloves lie in a velvet cushion by a dresser. You look up to his polite smile. 

“You may drop the formalities, [Reader]. Our time together has brought us closer as peers, and I consider you as a confidant now..” He leans close to you when you whiff light cologne clinging onto him.  _ He’s very close..  _

Suddenly, a knock breaks the silence. “Mr. Leech? This is Blake. May I ask about your wellbeing, along with Mx. [Reader]?” The subordinate’s muffled voice was more than enough for the both of you to straighten yourselves up from the ordeal. Jade clears his throat, turning his back on you as he undoes his tie. 

“We’re doing fine, King. Thank you. Have you arranged a dinner reservation for the three of us?” 

“Yes, sir,” 

“Excellent. What time?” He inspects a pocket watch.  _ 5:35  _ in the afternoon, it reads. 

“Seven in the evening, sir,” 

“Very well,” He clasps the pocket watch shut and glances back at you. 

“Mx. [Reader]?” 

“Yes?” 

You found yourself reading through your father’s notes again, your thoughts locked in a sentimental moment..  _ Not again.  _ Somewhere in the corner of your eye, you glimpse a golden glow from Jade. But perhaps that was an illusion. 

“We’ll be having dinner later tonight, Mx. [Reader]. Do you have any concerns?” 

“No, thank you, Mr. Leech,” You falter, rubbing your temples. Exhaustion from all that traveling finally settles in..  _ It’s been a long day..  _

A slight smile graces the youth’s lips “Very well. Please rest, [Reader]. We will convene at a later time,” 

“Thank you..” 


	3. Finding Treasure (Chapter 3)

Blake had booked a dinner at an exquisite venue, reserving a table by a balcony with a view overlooking the city. Truly the city of the ‘Mother of the World’, the evening sun casts a luminous gold upon a landscape of clay homes and grandiose mausoleums. Hanging lanterns light up busy streets as nightlife begins anew in the city. Citizens in bright vibrant clothing occupy the streets, gallivanting about for the charms and intrigues of nocturnal life. 

“How quaint,” Jade admires with a calm smile. You and Blake concede, silently agreeing to explore around at a later time. The three of you order your own share of food while gossiping about miscellaneous topics here and there. 

“Please relax, [Reader]. I’m sure a good meal will fill you up,” Blake assures you from the side. He pours you a cup of warm tea. 

“Thank you, Blake,” You smile kindly to him, accepting the cup of tea. He returns the smile. 

“Mr. Leech,” Blake pours another cup for his superior. 

“Thank you, King,” The curator smiles graciously, taking a sip of the tea. “Delicious. Chamomile tea is such a lovely drink for the cool autumn season,” 

“Indeed, it is, Mr. Leech,” 

Jade arches an eyebrow at you, his golden eye glinting with unfathomable intent. 

“[Reader], is something the matter?” He asks you. His concerned tone urges you to answer. You place a sugar cub in your tea and give it a swirl. You pondered on his question and tightened your grip on the cup.. Taking a sip of the tea, you taste the rich warm flavor of chamomile tea. From there, you mull over your thoughts. There was much to talk about, yet you worry about leaving particular details that may be of importance... 

“No, I’m fine, Jade,” 

You say, watching the telltale string of steam coming from the tea. Your thoughts follow suit, swirling about with all sorts of questions, anxieties, and worries.  _ How did your father manage to gather that much information? How many times did he put himself in peril in the name of research and discovery? Was he willing to bequeath you all of this information about the Sacred Jade?  _

All of these questions linger in your mind, swirling around like the tea by your side. 

_ Should I tell Jade and Blake about this?  _ You ponder to yourself.  _ Surely, Jade would consider the value of this information, but what about Blake?  _ The subordinate in question was busy reading the menu, and as for Jade, his gaze was fixed on you, musing and contemplating on when you’d like to speak. Just one glance at Jade and you already knew. 

“I’d like to discuss the nature of my father’s discoveries from the site, Jade,” You say after a moment of contemplation.

“Very well, do tell, my dear,” His golden eye glints in intrigue. Your lips part and begin to tell a tale: 

  
  


━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

_ “My father was an extraordinary archaeologist who reveled in his discoveries and achievements. He chose to pursue the more perilous expeditions than expand more knowledge on current artifacts. Adventure coursed through his blood, as well as everyone else in the family. He’d risk his life for the sake of new treasure and the pursuit of solving mysteries. _

_ His lust for answers earned him many near-death incidents with many scars and burdens that he didn’t need to carry as a youth and as an adventurer. However, these lessons earned him the merit of experience of traveling in such dangerous places. If he hadn’t chosen this path, I don’t know how he would’ve known about this artifact.”  _

  
  


_ Once upon a time, a figure hunches over a slab of hieroglyphics, a kerosene lantern burning by his side. He fervently translates glyph after glyph, muttering fragments of a foreign language under his breath.  _

_ “This isn’t right,” mutters the man, a finger tracing over a line of script. Had he stumbled upon an error in his translation? “No, no, no. There has to be a mistake!” He restarts the process and reads the script again.  _

_ “Richard?” A loud thunk and a click of a chest opening echoes in the cavern, followed by a splish-spolsh of footsteps on puddles. The man, named Richard, startles from his stupor.  _

_ “Yes, Eleanor?” He answers back, glancing to his wife. “It’s late, dear. Would you give it some rest? You can pick this up tomorrow morning..” A gentle tone tinges Eleanor’s voice, coaxing and patient. Richard’s eyes return to the slab of hieroglyphs, “But I can’t, Eleanor. I must find out the secrets of this Sacred Gem! There must be something behind this, a valuable truth about it - perhaps a hint about the powerful magic the old pharaohs used in their regime!”  _

_ A frown makes its way to Eleanor’s lips. There was no stopping her husband’s lust for the truth. The truth of a mysterious artifact.  _

_ “During his research, he had found a plethora of answers, many that he found quite intriguing.. And soon, he fell into the rabbit hole of clues, traps, and puzzles scattered about the dungeon. It was only a matter of time before my mother had fallen ill during the expedition.. _

_ By the time they returned home, my father had a plethora of notes about the burial site and its traps. He thought he had all the traps and tricks written down, but he had a feeling there were more - artifacts to discover, truths to expand on, and secrets to unravel.  _

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Your story time burned through candlelight and a meal with Jade and Blake. They listen with intrigue, thoughtfully nodding along and smiling. Jade was the first to break the silence,

“Thank you for this story, my dear [Reader]. It is through your story that we’ve learned much about your father in an intimate light. Your father has walked an arduous path in search of the Sacred Gem, and I’m honored to pick up where he started with you, my dear..” His smooth words come like honey, sweet yet comforting to your troubles. A bashful smile graces your lips. 

You fail to notice a change in Blake’s demeanor - a slight frown curling his lips as he watches you from the corner of his eye. Jade, on the other hand, gives a gentle kiss on your wrist, all with a tender smile at his lips. 

“Now then, if we wish to find more answers to this ‘Sacred Gem’, we shall wake up early tomorrow and make haste to the burial site. We have much to do, my dear,” 

This new resolve from Jade refurbishes more motivation into your being. Tomorrow will the real adventure begin. For a moment, a grateful smile graces your lips. 

“Thank you,” you say to Blake and Jade. Your gratitude earns kind and warm smiles from both men. 


	4. Finding Treasure (Chapter 4)

You arrive at the burial site by the crack of dawn, radiance tinging the clay architecture with warm hues. One could not help but note the history of the site: carved sentinels with the purpose to safe keep foul demons, eroded by the forces of weather, transformed into pitiful and worn rubble of clay safeguarding nothing but a collapsed burial site; obelisks that once towered the sky now fallen, becoming one with the chipped and ruined rubble of the earth; a glamorous burial site befitting of royalty now reduced to a pile of misery after years of negligence and plundering. To a native’s eyes, it was nothing but a long forgotten piece of junk unappealing to the eyes of the public. 

But, what you saw out of this burial site was a haven containing answers, mysteries, and eccentricities. You’ve been waiting your whole life for this moment - to finally step upon the threshold of this burial site, the very place where your father had investigated all these years ago. 

“Ready, my dear?” A smooth voice hums by your ear. The telltale glow of Jade’s eye glimmers in delight as you flash him a smile. Blake catches up from behind, hauling your belongings and research materials. You also flash the youth with a brief smile. 

“Of course,” You respond, eyes looking forward to the entrance of the burial site. Answers await ahead by the site ahead of you, and you couldn’t wait. You heave a breath and enter the threshold. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

The air in the burial site was heavy with a pungent odor you couldn’t deter. From above, you glimpse of stalactites dripping cold water in the backdrop of collapsed buttresses, formerly prestigious embodiments of architectural greatness, now protectors of flora and fauna.. The three of you pass by fallen structures you presume to be landmarks leading to the heart of the site. Up ahead, you pause in front of a double door, faded hieroglyphics that have lost its former charm accent the stone entryways. 

You curse under your breath, asking Blake to retrieve your materials. 

“Oya, Mx. [Reader], could this be a trap?” Jade inquiries, inspecting the doors with a cautious air. He swipes a blob of must with a gloved hand. 

“A millennia old, don’t you think, [Reader]?” He scours about the area, inspecting nearby empty lanterns. 

“No, Jade, this site was built roughly two millennia ago, under the sanction of the past Pharaoh - the King of the Heavens. ” You refute, shuffling through your father’s research notes with Blake. He manages to find a page matching some hieroglyphs. You nod a thanks and proceed to find more pages matching the hieroglyphics. 

“His reign was one of eloquence with successful military endeavors and ambitious architectural projects. The people of Egypt worshiped as if he were a god; therefore, raising statues of worship bearing his resemblance and building what would be the most elaborate tomb in its history.” 

You detail from memory. Jade listens on thoughtfully, taking this all with a knowing nod. Something urges you to continue on with your lecture, but you pause.  _ Should I tell him more?  _

His iconic golden eye glows with intrigue. 

“Tell me more, [Reader].” 

This alone prompts you to divulge into a lecture, with the others listening carefully,

“His people lived in luxurious homes rumored to be decorated in gold. Priests worshiped the pharaoh as if he were a god during his reign, for he declared that he’d rule the land of Egypt as a god. Those who opposed him faced punishment of immediate burial in the outskirts of the kingdom, branded as traitors of the state.” 

These words come short as you conclude your explanation. Blake and Jade eye each other for a moment, as if coming to a common agreement about your statements. 

“If what you say is true, Mx. [Reader]. Are you saying that this tomb here belongs to the Pharaoh of the Heavens?” Blake inquires after a moment of silence. 

“Precisely,” 

You nod.

“Because of the people’s reverence for the Pharaoh, his tomb was also built to be as elaborate as his projects back then. People believed that after they had buried him, the priests had implemented a series of curses and enchantments about the tomb so that no one could ever steal the contents inside the tomb,” 

Jade eyes the double doors skeptically. 

“Do you believe in such curses though, [Reader]?” asks the curator, tracing a gloved finger on an embossed hieroglyph by the lanterns.

You lapse into a silence. Your fingers twirl at the daffodil once more than you mull over your answer. 

“No.” 

A satisfied smile graces the curator’s lips. 

“Very well then, nothing like a little puzzle-solving would do to open up this door. Do we have any leads?” 

“Nothing much but these pages that match with these hieroglyphics,” You present him with the said documents, as Blake excuses himself to analyze the lanterns. Jade inspects the papers, tracing the illustrations with a gloved finger. He studies them intently, eyeing them with fascination. 

“These are incredible, [Reader]! Can you imagine the handiwork of these lanterns! Absolutely gorgeous!” Blake’s eyes widen in childish wonder as he finds himself engrossed by the glyphs. A smile curls on your lips as you watch the two engage in the mysteries of the threshold. 

You excuse yourself, retrieving a box of matches from your satchel and lighting the kerosene lantern you brought along the way. A ring of light illuminates from the lantern, casting warm brilliance into the dark and dreary cave. Blake startles upon seeing more hieroglyphs glow in the room from the light of the lantern. 

“Fascinating!” He exclaims once more, scrambling about to the other symbols. 

“This is like what you’ve said, Mx. [Reader]! The hieroglyphs are glowing in the light!” 

You merely smile, basking his infectious energy. 

  
  


“Now, we’ll have to unlock this very door..” 

Jade quickly gathers your research and presents you a page. Sketches of the tomb’s floor plan and puzzles by the entrance door fill the yellowed parchment with faded pen. From the light of the kerosene lantern, you could barely read your father’s tiny, loopy penmanship, squinting from the unfathomable scribbles and doodles. 

“If I may, [Reader],” 

You hold the lantern as Jade takes the documents from you. With a sleight of hand, he retrieves a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and perches them on his nose bridge. His brows furrowing in concentration, he attempts to read: 

“ _ From the Chambers of the Heavens,  _

_ to the scales of the Underworld,  _

_ wields a power unparalleled,  _

_ Magic by the gem,  _

_ Green as fair as the earth,  _

_ Blessed by a goddess’ kiss,”  _

Pray tell, [Reader],” His eyebrow perks in inquiry. “Do you have a clue on what this entails?” 

“That the priests put a riddle to fool us from our search?” Both you and Blake itch closer for a closer look at the riddle. From the corner of your eye, you notice a slew of hieroglyphs glowing, carvings emblazoned by gold emanating throughout the site.

“Very intriguing..” Jade hums, a delighted smile by his lips.

Seconds tick by as a clicking sound echoes throughout the threshold, followed by a deep rumbling. A trap door slowly opens, revealing a pedestal roughly the height of a child. The three youths crowd around this pedestal, wide-eyed with curiosity and wonder. Jade is quick to summon your father’s sources, flipping page after page until he lands on a blank. He blinks, quite puzzled by this predicament. 

“Why…” 

Your anticipation diminishes into that of dubious silence. 

“It seems that we may have stumbled on a new puzzle..” Your companion notes. There was nothing on your father’s notes that detailed this contraption, perhaps a detail he might’ve missed during his expedition here. There must be something, a clue or a scribble to detail the properties of this mysterious artifact before you. 

“Mx. [Reader]! Come take a look!” Blake’s abrupt voice alerts you to your senses. Crouched, he examines the pedestal cautiously as if worrying about any curses that may have been placed all these years ago. He gives his senior a side glance before making his move. The curator’s gaze darkens into a studious expression, calm and collected, concentrated in thought as if he were a stern mathematician solving the most difficult calculus equation. For a brief moment, you glimpse a flicker of light by his heterochromic eyes - perhaps a ghost of a smirk by his lips. 

“Look at the plaque, Blake,” He muses, his gloved hand pointing to the aforementioned item, a dulled slab of old metal engraved with the following: 

“ _ To enter this prestigious abode,  _

_ One must sacrifice one item of value:  _

_ A treasure of gold,  _

_ One that shines like the sun,”  _

A treasure of gold? You look about your belongings, in search for a precious item of gold. 

“Would a pocket watch do?” Jade ponders to himself, clasping the chain with his fingertips, its sheen twinkling a dull gold by the lantern’s warm light. 

“No, allow me, Mr. Leech.” Blake retrieves a golden locket from his breast pocket, a quaint piece of jewelry with nothing but a droplet of aquamarine embossed with delicate calligraphy:  _ To My Love, Blake King.  _

A frown creases Jade’s features in silent protest. He says nothing, only watching the young man yank at the chain. Part of Blake relaxes as he gazes upon the glowing aquamarine droplet. He smiles at you and Jade, placing the item on the pedestal where it trembles and retreats into the trapdoor. 

“Blake..” You place a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s fine,” A forlorn smile graces his lips, one of mourning. He closes his eyes as if to hold back his tears. 

“It was a gift from my betrothed on our sixteenth birthday. I promised to find a cure for her condition, but alas..” He lapses into a prolonged silence, his sapphire orbitals dimming to a melancholic expression. His eyes, once brimming with earnest and naivety, glass over with tears of melancholy, tears of a heartbroken lover. 

He shed tears of a broken heart, crying until his eyes are red. His tears wake the temple from its dormant state, tremors rumbling throughout the threshold until a slide door reveals all - the entrance of the exalted tomb. 


	5. Finding Treasure (Chapter 5)

You, Jade, and Blake stare at the entrance in stunned silence, your thoughts coalescing into a single exclamation: 

“We’re in!” 

Before you can celebrate, a silence weighs heavily in the air - Blake. The young man’s cerulean eyes, now reddened from tears, convey a pain, an irrevocable pain that weighs on his shoulders. Before you place a hand on his shoulder, a smile replaces his pained expression. 

“I’m fine,” he says with a cracked voice. 

His superior places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Take your time,” He hums softly, his gaze lowered in solemnity. Such a cruel turn of fate is certainly undeserved by such a man in his prime: an engagement between two lovers, severed by a terrible illness. 

“Thank you, Mr. Leech,” utters Blake. 

“When you’re ready, Blake, feel free to join us. We shall wait for you in there,” 

_ “I’m sorry, Blake,”  _

You glimpse a kind smile as you pass him by. 

“Thank you, [Reader].” That was the first genuine smile you’ve ever saw from him since your encounter. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

You and Jade enter into a room of gold; before you, a myriad of artifacts scatters about, from embossed coffins embossed with intricate designs and plates of gold to eloquent jewelry adorning molten cushions, bits and bits of gems and metal glowing from the dim embers of nearby torches. 

A golden glimmers from Jade’s eye, a look of lust crosses his features as he basks in the room. With this treasure in this room, he is certain this will increase the clientele of the museum by tenfold, but what should he excavate first? 

“Jade,” Your hand on his shoulder anchors him back to reality.  _ Right, this is merely for the sake of research. How silly of me, _ The curator murmurs to himself. Had you not caught him in the midst of his temptations, he would’ve plundered this place whole. 

“We’ll have to tread carefully, Jade. The artifacts you see here are fragile - it would be best if we don’t touch them,” You warn him with a steady gaze. There was no time to waste for everything about this room must be investigated from corner to corner, and to prove the existence of the Sacred Gem as real.

Somewhere in the dimly lit room, your foot catches on a wire. Dread surges in your veins as you dared to look around on what sort of trap you might’ve triggered -  _ Did Father mention something about booby traps?  _

“Watch out!” The world seemed to spin sideways as you’re taken to the side, promptly dodging a slab of granite that would’ve crushed you had Jade not come to your rescue. Adrenaline coursing your body, you release a sigh of relief, eliciting an amused chuckle from your rescuer. 

“You were saying something about treading carefully, my dear?” Jade mocks you, helping you brush residue from your being.  _ Dammit,  _ you bite down your tongue, heat rushing up your neck. That witty curator sure knows how to get back on you. 

“Never mind that,” You seethe with clenched teeth. “Do you mind letting go? I figured we could waltz in a much better venue than this drab old place,” 

“Why, of course, my dear. I prefer to do it at a later time as well, when we’ve concluded our investigation here,” Jade replies with a slight smirk, revealing a smooth yet toothy grin by his lips. He releases you without hesitation, leaving you to resume your work. You swore not to repeat the same mistake again, the back of your neck still flushed from that incident a moment ago. 

Years and years of research have come to this very moment; every nook and crevice of the tomb a haven for lore and information. Carved hieroglyphs in gold glimmer faintly as if to convey a sage welcome, vases and coffins worthy for a thorough examination - if only there was some way to write down the little details about the artifacts. 

_ The Sacred Gem… _ Your mind clicks back to focus to the artifact. The Sacred Gem was the sole purpose of your presence here - to be distracted by something else or be sniped by a curse would be irremediable to your efforts. 

“Perhaps I should let Blake stand guard,” Jade’s voice startles you from your train of thought, his shadow looming over yours as you inspect another puzzle. Your eyes linger on the curious contraption, slots of strange hieroglyphs swing on rusting hinges, creaking eerily in the silence. 

“Of course.” You absentmindedly consent, your eyes fixed on the puzzle ahead of you. There was something about this puzzle that troubled you.  _ Did Father take note of this during his time here?  _ Such a thought clicks into mind as you summon the tome of notes once more. You page past records of observations and diagrams from long ago, eyeing what could be clues for your investigation. You stumble on a page depicting a semblance to the puzzle. 

_ There it is! _

Of course, your father had written notes about this puzzle, but you pause. The notes before you read as: 

“ _ These glyphs appear to be pieces of a puzzle in order to unlock this door. These symbols look unfamiliar - I can’t decipher their meaning. I mustn’t dwell on this any longer. Eleanor couldn’t stay here any longer due to the baby.. I’m troubled on what they mean - perhaps a message about the Sacred Gem. I’ll reflect on this at a later time.”  _

You glimpse a sidenote of hypotheses, attempted calligraphy, and a series of translation notes blotching the parchment with ink. According to these attempts, he only managed to translate a handful of the strange glyphs in the puzzle.  _ Perfect..  _ This was more than enough for you to pick up from where your father left off.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

A series of turntables clicking into place echo in the chamber, followed by a thunderous rumble. You wait with bated breath as the door reveals an astonishing sight: the Sacred Gem. 

“Jade! Blake!” 

“What is it, Mx. [Reader]?” 

Both men rush into the chamber and catch sight of you crouching by the door, their eyes widening in incredulity when they see the glowing majesty of the Sacred Gem. There it was, the legendary scepter, the very spectacle you and your father had spent years studying about, emanates a brilliant emerald in the darkness - finally.

“We did it, [Reader],” Both men place a hand on your shoulder, Jade’s satin glove on your left and Blake’s leather one on your right. It was Jade who had said those touching words, provoking tears by the corners of your eyes.

The Sacred Gem, a pristine jewel from royalties long ago, was finally within your grasp. You thank your father for the bountiful resources - as his child, it felt right to pick up where he left off. 

“Jade?” There was no way you could handle such an artifact. It was best to leave it to the hands of a curator, Jade. He merely gives you a tender smile. 

“Please, do the honors of inspecting this, [Reader]. Your father would be proud of you for making it this far and discovering this for him,” 

“Thank you, Jade,” 

You reach out for the Sacred Gem, your fingertips enclosing on the scepter. The gem, a once luxurious and now dulled jade, hums from its threshold, remnants of magic lingering in its delicate embellishments. You swallow down a nervous bout. 

“A pen if you can, Jade,” 

“Of course,” He is quick to hand you a foundation pen. You open up your father’s notes once more and turn to an empty page, writing down your observations about the scepter by your hands. Everything about the scepter must be written down, you thought to yourself, closely inspecting it for further research. 

“A lantern, please,” 

“Of course, Mx. [Reader],” A now dried-eyed Blake complies to your orders. He places the still burning kerosene lantern in front of you, illuminating the book with its radiance. You heave a breath and begin to write.. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

##  **Bonus**

Jade’s POV: 

_ Spring, 19th Century _

_ Unfortunately, I couldn’t take the artifacts to the British Museum, but this trip was quite a valuable experience for me, my subordinate, and Mx. [Reader]. It would appear that their journey for this Sacred Gem had fulfilled this sense of legacy they carried on their shoulders; their father had invested many years of research and exploration for this artifact and for his child to succeed him is quite a feat.  _

_ [Reader] and I had proposed a waltz together after this discovery - we never thought that this exploration would drain us to the point of fatigue, but alas, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with them. Normally, an explorer of their youth would be driven to find treasure for a chance of fame and fortune, but I digress, they’ve exceeded my expectations with their resources and wit.  _

_ I have no words towards them besides a note of fondness - a fondness differing from mine with my twin brother. Intriguing…  _

_ I look forward to getting along with them in the future..  _

_ Signing off,  _

**_Jade Leech_ **

**_Curator of the British Museum_ **

  
_ The Sacred Gem is now kept in the antiquities sector of the Museum, with a picture of Jade Leech, Mx. [Reader], and Blake King standing together with proud smiles. One could glimpse wisps of magic surrounding the three of them as a scepter glow a bright emerald.  _ ****


	6. Roses of May (Chapter 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think 19th century, somewhere in the depths of time, a once noble family crumbles from the fires of revolution. A knight protects the honor of the last heir as they venture to a new land, finding themselves in a whirlwind of changes as they explore the New World.

Once upon a time, there was once a prestigious family whose wealth declared them as the most prosperous in the land. Such a family gained so much from the comings and goings of capitalistic proceedings and bountiful opportunities in the throes of society - now, all of their hard work paid off with an eloquent mansion; a beauty forged from influences of Classical architecture, a love letter from the previous century and its former glory. The estate overlooks the countryside with vast pastures boasting a vibrant palette of crops.

A wealthy merchant trader with a witty penchant for riches, a sharp-tongued nurse whose pristine beauty rivaled other maidens, and a curious child ruled the halls of the mansion. Servants were at their beck and call, awaiting orders from their superiors and obliging them at haste. Such a family with great fortune beckoned allies and acquaintances alike into the estate, as well as treacherous leeches who heralded the downfall of the family.

Once upon a time, the once wealthy family had everything; but now, their mansion is in shambles. Corruption decayed the mansion into a decrepit, pitiful state where wilting weeds replaced blossoming flowers; weathered stone sentinels bearing grotesque faces guard the threshold with moss and weed at their feet; barren pastures, once a hubbub of bountiful crops and livestock alike, became the land of carrions, foul vermin, and unwanting scavengers. This mansion and its inhabitants had fallen from grace.

Despite all of their misfortune, the family still lived in the mansion, content with their livelihoods.

Sheltered from the scalding sun, a fair youth nestles under the shade of an ancient oak tree, reading a book at hand as she basks in the sun. A slight breeze beckons the chilling winter, a reminder from Mother Nature to bundle up or face the bitter kiss of Jack Frost. They slightly shiver and bundle up in a woolen sweater.

"Mx. [Reader]!" A voice calls for the youth. They peer up from their book, greeted by an approaching servant. He frantically bows before his superior before righting himself.

"What is it, Dante?" They question the servant.

"You're needed at your father's quarters Mx. [Reader]. Please follow me,"

_Father?_ They arch an eyebrow, quite puzzled at this predicament.

"Did my father get entangled with pirates again?" A hint of annoyance tinges their words, yet their words earn a negative from Dante.

"I'm not sure. I've heard many rumors from the maids about your father bequeathing his royalties to you.."

The young heir gives pause upon this revelation, letting their mind register for a moment.

"I don't believe that is the case, but if I may speculate, Mx. [Reader].."

Dante's words piquing their curiosity, they listen.

"Please go ahead," They permit.

Dante nods, bowing slightly in gratitude.

"Pardon me for being pretentious, but I believe this change may be due to society changing. Lately, we've been having revolutions and the common people standing up against the nobility and patriarchy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the faint flicker of a frown by his superior's lips. The young servant clears his throat, quickly muttering a word of apology.

"No, it's fine, Dante. Thank you for informing me about the matter," The heir bites down their lip. Perhaps I should wait for the whole story.. _They ruminate to themselves. Although, it would be very dangerous if he ever tells anyone else about his speculations on this matter.._ Somehow, Dante's shoulders portrayed an unfathomable burden.

He musters an awkward smile, opening the door for them. Entering the mansion, an expansive foyer-its rustic and antique ambiance, an idyllic picture right out of a fantasy storybook- welcomes the youths into the threshold. They pass oil portraits depicting family members' past and declarative achievements worthy of applause, precious china and porcelain decor, and exquisite yet empty corridors. At last, they reach an oak door of golden elaborate design. Dante knocks on the oak wood,

"Sire, I have arrived with Mx. [Reader]. May they come in?"

A booming voice answers the call, "Yes, bring in my child, Dante. Thank you,"

The youth gives their thanks to the servant and enters the office. The patriarch greets his child with a smile, stowing away a pocket watch by his breast pocket.

"Ah, my sweet child, [Reader]. Please, have a seat," There was something amiss about his complexion - one that was once a face complete with a charismatic and professional smile weathered with age. A fear bubbles in the pit of the heir’s stomach.

"Father..?” They inquire, their lips curling to a frown. The patriarch sighs, pinching his nose in frustration. "I'm certain you've heard about the ongoing circumstances of the revolution, my dear?"

Fear flickers away for a moment, their complexion replaced with a knowing nod. "Yes, sir,"

"Well then, I can spare you a lecture about the matter then. Very well,"

The patriarch begins to retrieve some items from his desk, including a handful of documents and a letter.

"The following contains my will and documents regarding the trading business. As apparent heir to the family fortune, you will have all access of business transactions, finances, and management of the trade,"

"Father!" An incredulous expression makes its way to the child’s face, speechless and utterly bewildered were they to hear this news. The incredible honor of inheriting the family business! [Reader] had been waiting for this moment in their entire life! To inherit the family fortune, name, and purpose from their father and carry the legacy of spreading rich culture and knowledge through the means of trade was indeed the highest honor they as a child could ever receive. Yet, just before they could burst into a million gratitudes, their thoughts stop them.

"[Reader]?" The elder's eyebrows furrow in concern.

_Father, are you doing this out of sheer cowardice or something else?_ was the question they wanted to ask. The aged patriarch, with his weathered and weary demeanor, fathoms a sigh.

"I know what you're thinking, my sweet child. Why am I doing this right now?" He takes a moment to pace around the room, passing by memorabilia, antiques, and pictures belonging of events long ago. Silence answers his question, allowing him to state his reasoning.

"Times are changing, my dear [Reader], and I fear it would be a matter of time before the common people come and demolish our hard work," He eyes a photo depicting a younger semblance of himself. - "Father..." They interrupt. He raises a gloved hand to them, merely sighing..

"Please, listen to this old man, young child. I'm not getting much younger and I only wish for you to continue my legacy as my treasured child," His pained words jab on their heart. The heir obliges, sitting back down.

The man only closes his eyes and continues, "Long ago, your great-great-great grandfather established this very company to spread more knowledge and culture to our people. He was a humble man, wishing nothing but the idea of knowledge and culture brought him successful tradeoffs with other countries and nobility,"

He takes a breath, trudging along to another picture depicting the grandfather and father from a bygone age, locked with precious smiles on their lips.

"Your predecessors and I have honored this mindset and continued on this legacy for years and years, and now," He pauses, peering over to his child. A frown makes its way to their lips. _Had their father truly desired to pass on the family's blood, sweat, and tears to his only child, his eldest child?_

Just before their doubts could be answered, their father's lips curl to that of a proud smile.

"Today, I, as your father and patriarch of the family, will now pass on our family legacy to you, my eldest, [Reader],"

The heir’s heart begins to swell out of sheer exhilaration and disbelief. "Father!" They lurch from their seat, grabbing hold of their father's aged hands. What they saw of their father was a proud smile by his lips.

"My sweet child,"

He unlatches a locket from his being and latches it around his child's neck. Their expression falls into one of confusion,

"Just follow these instructions: on the night of the seventh day, please gather your belongings and prepare for a voyage to the States. You'll be going with the head servant, Sebek Zigvolt. He is already informed on the matter, and has the documents at the ready for your venture. Time is running out for the family here, my sweet daughter. Please think wisely and don't forget our family's legacy,"

There, he plants one last kiss on their forehead and bids them good day.


	7. Roses of May (Chapter 2)

The day of the heir's departure had finally come. An early morning carriage arrived to pick up the respective passengers. The sun had yet to rise, the sound of crickets chirping and a boisterous rooster cawing to announce the arrival of morning.

"[Reader]," Sebek, the heir’s escort and companion along the journey, gestures to them inside the threshold.

"Thank you, Sebek," They graciously take the gloved hand, embarking into the carriage. Sebek, on the other hand, mounts next to the stable boy, keeping watch of the traffic outside. The crack of a whip brings the carriage to a start, the horses trudging effortlessly into busy traffic.

The heir heaves a sigh, relaxing against the satin comforters of the coach. They were finally leaving home, departing from the safe haven of their family mansion and into the unknown. Only Sebek, the head representative of the household servants and escort, accompanied them. The youth glimpse his dashing profile by the window, his broad shoulders wide and towering compared to the scrawny stable boy.

A frown creases on their lips. They had heard many high praises from the family about Sebek, the youthful and diligent servant who'd oblige their orders wordlessly and quickly all the while being of similar age as the upcoming noble. Bringing Sebek along as an escort assured the heir, yet there was a lingering sense of doubt that troubled them.. There was something about him that they couldn't put a finger on..

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Sebek's gaze locked onto the bustling traffic in front of him, cursing taxi drivers and clattering carriages occupying the streets, the stable boy next to him skillfully maneuvering past these obstacles with a quick crack of a whip and a 'hup'. The horses grunt and trudge on, advancing further into the city.

Sebek merely watched the scenery as the carriage passed by familiar landmarks - a grand palace built centuries to celebrate the grandeur charm of the country, a prestigious bank of gothic motifs done by the hand of a talented architect, and a plethora of architectural achievements Sebek had known and recognized over time.. 

_ I'm going to miss this..  _ He muses to himself. The youth had spent many years attending errands around town that he practically memorized these very streets.. Countless journeys through carriages or walking, from and to the family mansion..  _ No time for that,  _ the servant scolds himself, righting himself back to the present.

He spares a moment to check on his escortee. The heir apparent appeared to be reading a book with a serene smile at their lips. His gaze lingers on them for a moment longer - as if he were building a new resolve to protect them.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

"We're here at the harbor, sire," The timid stable boy announced after some time later. Sebek inhales the heavy musk of the sea, salty and pungent. It was now time for the second part of their journey, the steamboat ride to their destination. He glimpses a steamboat at the corner of his eye, a pristinely kept vessel dubbed the "Elegant Witch" floating by the harbor. The carriage screeches to a halt - it was already time to disembark.

"Thank you, Felix," Sebek says, tipping the stable boy with a handful of coins. The youth's face lights up in gratitude, but deflates soon after, his demeanor turning solemn and muted, "Take care, Sebek," He says with an awkward nod. 

"You too. Look after the horses and family, will you?" Sebek couldn't help but fathom a slight smile to the boy. From a young age, the stable boy had come and worked with the family, taking care of the horses and driving the carriage for them, often with Sebek at his side. With this farewell from the stable boy, it meant leaving the rest of the servants behind as well.. Felix nods, tipping his fedora at the elder.

"Take good care of [Reader] as well, Sebek,"

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━

"Welcome aboard the 'Elegant Witch'. Please present your tickets,"

The two passengers present their tickets to a clerk who checks them with a nod and a polite smile,

"Thank you. Please enjoy your time here,"

"Thank you," Sebek bids with a polite smile. He glances over to his superior, who is still engrossed in her book.

"[Reader], is there anything you'd like to eat? You must be hungry after a long journey on the carriage,"

The youth closes their book, and looks up to Sebek. They ruminate for a moment and come to an answer,

“May I ask for a moment by myself, Sebek. I’m sure we’d need some time to adjust this new situation, if you will,”

Sebek didn't dare question his superior’s wishes, yet he found the wish quite understandable, for the two were about to embark to a journey far away from their home.

"Of course," He obliges with a nod.


	8. Roses of May (Chapter 3)

_Finally alone,_ you have a relived sigh, watching the _Elegant Witch_ skim the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Not many people lingered by the balcony or the deck. Starry luminescence blankets the pitch-black sky, faintly twinkling from nebulous depths. There was nothing like the cool breeze from the North, a harbinger of eternal winter, to make you bundle up in your woolen coat. Apart from the solace of your home, this was enough.

Just a moment for your thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. The vast sea, a great body of water containing many aquatic specimens, was a grand obstacle between your home and your new journey in the States. A new start in the United States, a way to establish your family business overseas with you being the representative of your father’s legacy. 

_But, would it be all worth it in the end?_ You ponder to yourself. 

“[Reader]?”

You turn around to see a concerned Sebek by your side, holding two cups of steaming hot cocoa. 

“I’m sure you’d like something warm to drink in this cold weather, my liege. Would you like some chocolate?” 

A soft smile graces your lips. 

“Thank you, Sebek,” 

You graciously accept the offer, gloved hands wrapping around the steaming hot cup. The sweet aroma of chocolate reaches your nose, sweet enough to elicit a sigh from your lips. You let your lips touch the brim, sipping warm chocolate. 

“Delicious,” A satisfied hum. 

“I figured you’d enjoy it, [Reader],” says Sebek with a formal nod. 

“The Captain, Lilia Vanrouge, recommended me these drinks, and since he knows your father, he wanted to make sure you have a wonderful and comfortable journey aboard the _Elegant Witch,_ ” 

“Tell him that I appreciate the sentiment, Sebek.” Perhaps Captain Vanrouge was an acquaintance of your father’s, you speculate, swirling the contents of the cup in a playful bout. 

“I will,” The young man bows out of respect. 

“Sebek,” Your smile is quickly replaced with a frown as you watch him bow before you. _This informal relationship between the both of us would take some time to get used to,_ you feared. 

You place a gloved hand on his broad shoulder. 

“Sebek, you don’t have to bow in front of me.” 

“But-” 

“It’s okay. I’d like to consider the both of us as friends.. Are you alright with that?” 

“My liege?” Guilt permeates your being as you glimpse his antique gold eyes widen with shock. You spoke not another word, shyly looking down at his shoulder.. 

“We will be in a new world, Sebek. I’m sure my father wants us to properly adjust to our new environment by disposing of the formalities from now on. Please, we shall proceed on a first-name basis,” You softly remind him. The declaration renders him speechless, his silence unsettling you as time went on. 

“Sebek?” 

“Please excuse my rudeness, my liege. It’ll be difficult for me to adjust accordingly to this change, but I shall do my best to be a reliable companion for you,” 

“Thank you, Sebek,” 

A terrible guilt permeates about your being as he plants a kiss on the back of your hand, a common gesture of courtesy for higher order servants to the head of the family. Antique gold eyes peer into yours, but you quickly avert your gaze, gazing at the tumultuous waves in the distance. 

“Do you wish for me to prepare your bath and bed, [Reader]?” 

This was usually the task for your nursery maid, but with the luxury of your home replaced with nothing but a floating ship, it was now Sebek’s responsibility. 

“No need, Sebek. You need not do that, I can do it myself. It must’ve been a long day for you. You can go ahead and sleep early,” 

You expect another perplexed expression from him, but he remains silent, merely nodding to your request. _I know this is hard for him, but we’ll have to get used to it.._ You don’t look back as you hear a complicit “Of course. Good night, my liege,” and a slam of the deck door closing behind him. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

The young gentlemen let out a sigh as soon as he returns to the warm threshold of the cabins. Your sage words linger in his mind, continuing to trouble him the more he thought about it. 

_“It’s okay. I’d like to consider the both of us as friends.. Are you alright with that?”_

_Friends? What in the name of the Great Seven do you mean by that?_ He mulls it over, awkwardly shuffling past blissfully unaware guests and drunk sailors. Were you troubled? He speculates, thinking back on the conversation he had with you outside. Yet, his thoughts come to a pause when he collides with something, no, _someone._

“Excuse me,” 

“No! Pardon me for my insolence. I didn’t pay attention to where I was going..” Sebek mutters an apology. 

“Fufu, don’t mind, don’t mind, young one. It must be nice to be lost in your thoughts, yes?” 

“Pardon me?” Sebek’s cheeks flare up. 

Sebek looks up- “Down here, young man,” 

Mirthful scarlet orbitals glint warmly in greeting. Captain Vanrouge, proud in his medal-cladded uniform, nods to the servant in greeting, a sage smile at his lips. 

“I see you and [Reader] have been enjoying the _Elegant Witch’s_ hospitality. How are you two faring? It seems your liege has something in mind,” 

Sebek sighs, 

“It appears so, Captain. I worry about them greatly. There must be some way for them to open up, but perhaps more time and space is appropriate for them,” 

A fond smile finds its way to the Captain’s lips. 

“You’re correct in that notion, young man. But mind, your liege cannot be tight-lipped for long. Find the right timing and ask, allow them to answer openly. It’ll be difficult for them, but as long as you’re there with open ears and an open heart, they’ll answer to you.” 

Silence follows the elder’s words. Time, patience, space.. The right timing.. That was it! 

“Thank you, Captain,” 

“Anytime, young man. I wish you and your liege the best.” 


	9. My Muse (Chapter 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A servant by day, a painter by night.. You seek respite in your paintings from the relentless chores your stepmother gives you every day. On the way to buy some new paints, you stumble to a stranger, a beautiful stranger who merely paid for your new supplies. Who could he be, you ask? Well, you'd have to read to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each character will have five parts! Please be patient as updates will be slow!

Stained paintbrushes fill glass jars, bits of acrylic paint lingering on the bristles. Classical music crackles from a gramophone next to wax candles melting from warm embers of flame. The melodious orchestra swells to a serendipitous crescendo, thunderous and grand - a romantic cue expected from the great Tchaikovsky. 

The music does nothing to wake you from your slumber, save for the blaring horns in the background. Just as you dwell languidly in the realm of dreams - 

“Peasant, wake up this instant!” You jolt awake by the sound of a sharp voice. 

“Coming!” If there was some way to magically stow all these paintbrushes and canvases out of the way. 

“Are you here?!” The sharp voice makes its return, prompting you to hurry along. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you routinely stow away your brushes, paints, and canvases and tuck them in the crevices and nooks of your room until they’re carefully hidden away.  _ So much for painting..  _

Your stepmother awaits you downstairs, and it would be a matter of time before she’d call you once more to ensure your existence. You comply with a practiced response, donning an apron and preparing ingredients for breakfast. The kitchen was the first destination for your daily chores: cooking meals and pouring warm tea for your stepmother and step siblings.

“You know better than to oversleep on our grand opening of our new salon, child. There is not a time to waste. After you cook our meals, do the laundry, feed the chickens, dust the windows, clean the mansion, and make sure you receive a letter from the Grand Duke. Fail to do this, and it’ll be double the chores,” 

You hear the telltale sign of your patience snapping from your stepmother’s words. Yet, you comply with a forced “Yes, Madame,” and continue your duties. 

Your hands and feet follow the routine, scrubbing and cleaning, cooking and gardening, feeding little critters and shopping about the village. It was normal for your day to be full of chores, not a moment of respite, not a moment to waste as you continue on with task after task - it was nothing new, just the monotonous, habitual motions of chores day after day. 

You hear the occasional complaint from your stepsisters, ungrateful brats who never seemed to lighten your workload day by day, yet you carry on, simply doing your duties as the de facto ‘maid’ in the household. 

Night had come in burning candlelight as you finalize your daily chores. Fatigue renders your arms into heavy weights by your side, your eyes fluttering between the realms of dreams and consciousness, perhaps a moment in bed would do wonders to your exhaustion. But no, the canvas awaits. 

“Very well, [Reader]. You’re free for the night,” 

A relieved sigh slips past your lips as your stepmother dismisses you for the night. 

“Thank you, Stepmother,” 

You return to the cramped haven of your quarters, a pitiful yet functional place where you could spend all night painting. You cue out blank canvases, paintbrushes, easels and paints, tools of trade for your nocturnal artistic whims. Your fingers brush over the bristles of paint brushes by your side, delicate little things you bought with your hard-earned money, the very brushes that cultivated your works into beautiful pieces of art in a burning candlelight. With a ready paintbrush at hand, you prepare your palette of colors when you notice something amiss - you had expended some colors from the night before. 

_ Time for a late night venture to the village square.  _

Everyone in the household had long since retired for the night, silence reigning the halls as the moon and stars illuminate the heavens. With a cloak and slippers, you sneak away to the village square, hoping not to wake your family during your escapade. 

The village square, a quaint sight to spectate in the hours of twilight, filled with villagers and traders alike; foreigners who hailed from a vast land in search for a new culture, bright-eyed youths with a lust for adventure, and scavenging scholars in search for answers. The nightlife in the village square was nothing like the day life in the village square - intricately made lanterns lighting pathways into the square, store owners beckoning new customers with professional smiles and cordial welcomes, and wandering souls weaving back and forth in the streets

It was truly a magical place, seeing the village square at night. You weave in between kiosks, turn corners, and pause at a painter’s shop. There, you see a cloaked figure towering over at a bouquet of flowers. 

“Excuse me,” You mutter, slipping past them as you reach for the door. 

Silence was the figure’s response, stifling and profound as if he was a sentinel testing your patience. You nod a thanks to the stranger and enter the threshold, a hearty “Welcome!” and an encompassing warmth greeting you into the shop.. 

“What are you looking for, my dear?” asks the shop owner, a charming woman with a kind smile. You request for a month’s worth of paint, hoping that the bag of coins by your waist is enough to pay for it all. 

“That’ll be 475 Madols, dear,” 

_ Did the price just keep on getting higher every month? _

“Excuse me, is this how much you’re selling the paints?” 

The owner’s expression sours into that of a scowl, her tone condescending and irked by your comment. 

“Take it or leave it, child,” 

_ I only have 390 Madol..  _

“I’ll pay for them,” 

“Excuse me?” You look back to see the stranger from before. With the cape off, a young man with cascading locks, orbitals of a dark emerald hue, and a poised stature befitting of a king towers over you. You could’ve sworn you saw a sort of malice in his eyes, but you cower before him, an insignificant prey trembling before the great predator. There was something oddly beautiful about him - was it the sun-kissed skin contrasting the rich locks by his shoulders, the emerald eyes dimmed from an unfathomable anguish, or the very charisma he exuded from just his appearance alone? Was he a Prince? You shake away straying thoughts, returning to reality.

“I’ll pay for you,” He repeats, handing a bag of coins to the owner. “Very well. Thank you for your business.” She accepts the bag before giving you a poignant glare. 

“You know very well that I don’t do discounts, dear.” As she gives your purchase to the stranger, embarrassment flares up your neck. You muster an apology and hurry out of the shop with the stranger. 

“Here,” He gifts you the purchased item, a delicate wooden box containing a multitude of paints perfect for your endeavors.

“I’m sorry, sir. Thank you for your help. How can I ever repay you?” 

“No need to thank me. I just had a lot of money to spare,” 

“Huh?” 

With that said, the beautiful man whom you just met blends in the bustling crowd of the village square. You find yourself completely alone, clutching on the box of paints he just bought for you.


	10. My Muse (Chapter 2)

_ Who was he?  _ Your mind lingers on the image of the young man. Whoever he was, you couldn’t help but be captivated by his presence. Yet, he couldn’t be seen from the ongoing crowd in the village. To attempt a search would take ages, and your stepmother wouldn’t appreciate it if you were away from home for long. You make haste on the way home, clutching at the paints at your bosom. 

You’d have to find the time to thank him at some point. 

Right now, letting your imagination loose on a blank canvas seems more ideal than stressing about a stranger who just paid for your paints. You open the box of paints and begin to paint. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

_ “So, this is love,”  _

You dream of dancing in a dress of gold, luxurious silk gliding upon polished tile as heels click along in tempo with an allegro orchestral piece. You look up to your partner, a familiar face whose were orbits of emeralds, green as pure jades. Warm palms firmly wrap around yours, a gentle hand by the small of your back. Golden hues reminiscent of the sun dance about in rays of light. 

You glimpse a wistful smile by your partner’s lips, gentle yet warm.  _ Have I seen him before? _ Those eyes, that poise -  _ could he be a prince?  _ That question lingers in your mind for just a moment longer, puzzling you until a sharp voice jolts you awake. 

_ Already morning? _

That dream felt like a spell, remnants of dancing in a golden ballroom embedded in your memory. You blink away fatigue, stretching circulations to your stiff muscles. You inhale pungent acrylic paint and light florals from the room.  _ Ah, I forgot to clean up last night..  _

A terrible hubris to neglect cleaning your materials after your late night endeavors, a woeful sigh bubbles from your lips. Your stepmother calls for you once more. 

“[Reader]!” 

“Coming!” 

You scramble about, quickly disposing evidence of your endeavors from last night, picking away paint under your nails, wiping down your room, and adding a note of fragrance to disguise the pungent smell of acrylic.  _ Don’t keep stepmother waiting! _ A small voice in the back of your mind nags. You anticipate her shrill voice ringing out in the open, but you hear nothing, dread encompassing your being. 

Stepmother was never a patient woman to begin with. If her expectations weren’t met, a severe scowl would sour her elderly features, following a harsh scolding for not fulfilling her wishes. Nothing leaves her keen eye, for every single detail mattered and everything must be made flawless. You pray for mercy, quickly hurrying to your place in the kitchen. There, you see a disappointed Stepmother glaring at you upon your arrival. She retrieves a pocket watch, 

“You’re late. Did you stay up late again?” 

“No, Stepmother,” You lower your gaze, shame flushing up to your cheeks and neck. Velvety gloves grab hold of your face as cold, calculating eyes inspect your being. You barely manage a squeak from her grip, her gaze enough to quell any words of protest.

“Have you been washing your face properly?” She frowns. 

“No, Ma’m,” You croak. 

“Have you been eating properly?” 

“No, Ma’m.” Your answer earns a look of concern from her. She loosens her grip, a sigh bubbling at her lips. The woman’s countenance withers to one with exhaustion, her woes and age written all over her features. She tucks a stray of ashen gray hair behind her ear. 

“At least cook some food for yourself, child.” The middle-aged woman mutters under her breath, eyeing you coldly as you prepare ingredients for a breakfast meal. You feel her gaze burn through your skull, a glare you’ve grown accustomed to as you work. Without a thought, you proceed to the usual task, chopping, cutting, frying, boiling, and arranging ingredients into a delectable meal, the remaining scraps you manage to salvage for a quick meal. 

“Stepmother,” You regard the tight-lipped guardian with a nod as you present her three dishes perfect for breakfast. She eyes the meals with scrutiny, nodding by your culinary skills presented on each dish, slices of honey-glazed tofu and imitation meat laden in bushels of celery with other vegetables and the occasional fruit filling the plate. 

“Excellent. Do leave these here, [Reader]. I believe you’ll be off grocery shopping at the village square soon.” 

_ The village square!  _ You suppress the very urge to react, biting down your lip and bowing before your guardian. 

“Yes, Stepmother.” 

“Take this time to eat your breakfast, dear. You’ll need energy for your father’s return tonight,” 

You look up, glimpsing a troubled expression from your stepmother, yet troubled was an understatement. The woman before you muttered all sorts of things, mere contemplation on what to wear, how to act and what she should do during your father’s visitation. Fearing a scolding, you swiftly look down and consume your meal before taking off for the village square with a coin bag. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

You arrive in the square, its day life a stark contrast to when you visited just a night ago.  _ I wonder if he’ll be here.. _ That beautiful stranger who had paid for your paints, those emerald eyes that glistened in golden radiance, and locks of smooth chocolate. Whoever he was, he left you breathless. 

But, where would he be in this crowded place? That young man didn’t tell you his name. As you weave between wandering youths and blundering elderly, you cling onto the hope that you’d see that beautiful stranger again. 

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Towering before a grand village and mansion, a palace stands proudly with its crystalline spires, mosaic windows, and flags bearing the Kingscholar coat of arms. Truly an architectural feat, it boasts a plethora of gardens, grand pavilions, and vast ballrooms, such feats worthy of envy from neighboring kingdoms and nobility alike. 

Somewhere in one particular garden, a young prince basks in the afternoon sun, dozing off in a bed of vibrant flowers. His chocolate locks woven with petals of gold, a clumsy attempt of a flower crown wraps around his head.

“Prince Kingscholar, a moment please,” 

A shadow looms before the prince. He wakes, grumbling something about a pleasant dream and a waltz. He scowls as he shakes off flowers from his being. 

“What is it, Matthias?” The prince grumbles. 

“Your parents informed me that they will be arranging a ball for your upcoming birthday, Your Highness.” 

“A ball?” 

“Yes, a ball, Your Highness,” 

The youth releases a sigh of woe, his scowl deepening to an irritated frown. 

“How troublesome,” He mutters under his breath. The effort of merely planning out the event, coming up with a guest list, and even creating a budget for entertainment and food. Would his older brother be entrusted with the details? 

“Of course, in honor of your special day, your parents have decided to entrust the planning up to you, Your Highness. That way, you can make this into one you see fit,” A light smile graces the advisor’s lips, his amber eyes alight with eagerness. 

The heir clicks his tongue, irritation clearly written in his features. Planning this event himself? What nonsense! When did the second born ever had an event planned by himself? He couldn’t believe that he heard such a preposterous idea! Yet, this opportunity was rare for the prince.. 

With a grumbling sigh, Leona lets out an ultimatum. 

“Very well. Let’s plan this little event, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> For more of my works, please visit my writing blog on tumblr!  
> panacea-wishes  
> I generally write TWST content, but I expand my skills to other fandoms as well!


End file.
